


Sometimes Jayne Is a Good Dog

by zeldadestry



Category: Firefly
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-08
Updated: 2005-11-08
Packaged: 2017-10-27 08:29:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeldadestry/pseuds/zeldadestry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>River’s eyes were shining. "Mean Mal, teasing the puppy."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes Jayne Is a Good Dog

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: all Chinese from Firefly-Serenity Chinese Pinyinary  
> Jian Gui-like hell, go to hell  
> Hun Dan- jerk, bastard  
> Yu Ben De- stupid  
> Go Se- crap

A year, more or less, after the incident on Ariel, Jayne bought the crew a crate of mangos. Along with the fruit there had arrived a sort of amnesty, which was to say that Jayne was responding to River’s wilder remarks by rolling his eyes rather than insulting her outright. Mal wasn’t entirely taken aback, then, when he walked into the kitchen to find Jayne sitting at the head of the table, carefully slicing a mango and feeding the pieces one by one to River. River ate slowly and after she finished each slice she would slide her plate over to Jayne and he would begin scoring the golden flesh into another incredibly thin strip. Each time he placed a piece on the plate for her and slid it back across the table, River would laugh and applaud, bowing her head to him as though he was her most gracious benefactor. Mal watched them through a few rounds of it, and it was almost soothing to watch Jayne work with a knife. There was a rhythm to it, just like Kaylee in the engine room, something about skilled hands that knew what they were doing, that worked so smooth and quick. When Mal pulled out a chair to sit down across from her, River beamed up at him. Jayne had placed another tidbit of mango on her plate and she picked it up, pausing with her fingers half way to her mouth, to declare to Mal, quite solemnly, “sometimes Jayne is a good dog.”

“Jian gui, don’t you start, girl,” Jayne muttered.

River’s notions always had a strange sort of sense to them, and Mal didn’t have to reflect too much on it to decide this idea had a particular merit. A wicked notion of his own suddenly appeared to Mal, but when he reached his hand out for the knife, Jayne easily moved it out of his reach. “Give me the knife, Jayne.”

Jayne’s eyes narrowed. He was never more ornery than when someone was trying to take a weapon away from him. Slapping Mal’s hand down, he said, “what’s gotten into you?”

Every time Mal reached for the knife, Jayne snatched it away. Like any other time a deal was goin’ wrong, Mal changed his tactics. The hand that was grabbing for the knife stilled. Jayne’s other hand rested on the table, and it was instinct that led Mal to close his own hand over Jayne’s, tangling their fingers together. He repeated the order, “Jayne, give me the knife,” softly, almost sweetly and Jayne yielded, placing the handle into Mal’s outstretched, open hand. Mal grabbed the mango from the table and gouged out a big chunk, spearing it on the tip of the knife. He held the piece out to Jayne’s mouth. “Open,” he said. Juice was running down the blade.

Jayne shook his head, looking from the offered mango to Mal with horror. “Not hungry,” he said through gritted teeth, rightly suspecting that if he opened his mouth to speak, Mal would slip the fruit in.

“Liar,” River said, without malice. “You’re always hungry.”

Mal leaned closer and pressed his hand down against the hard muscle of Jayne’s thick thigh. Even through the rough denim that covered his skin, Mal could feel heat. “Jayne,” he said, voice low like it got when he was angry, like it got when he was gonna shoot someone if they didn’t do what he said, “open your gorram mouth.” Jayne shook his head, brow wrinkling and lips pressing tighter together. Mal responded by gripping harder with his hand, but then, remembering what had worked before, he switched to a lighter touch. He ran his fingers all the way up Jayne’s thigh to rest against his hip for a moment, and then even higher, to cup the side of his waist, where, through the worn cotton of his shirt, the fever of his flesh burned brighter. Jayne’s sudden compliance was a startling sight, his eyes fell shut and his jaw dropped. Mal carefully placed the blade of the knife inside, against his tongue, watched as Jayne’s lips closed around the fruit and his head moved back to slide it off the steel. The blade gone from his mouth, Mal put the knife back down on the table. Jayne sat on, still as stone, still as death, and Mal trembled, swallowed, felt frightened for a moment, like the man really was lost, gone. His hand was still resting against Jayne’s side and a strange and sudden shame, a strange and sudden ache, made him quickly pull away. The touch gone, Jayne opened his eyes again and began chewing, glaring at Mal. Alright. Jayne glaring was good. Cranky Jayne was normal, everyday Jayne. Mal’s heart started to beat again and he smiled smugly. It was good to win, always good to win, that was all that had him feeling so satisfied. And yet, he felt strangely unsatisfied at the same time, like there was still another game he wanted to play, needed to win. Turning halfway towards River, who was watching intently, he said, “Jayne is a very good dog, just so long as he obeys.”

“You hun dan, Mal,” Jayne, speaking with his mouth full, said, but he flashed a smile as his hands formed the crude gestures which communicated ‘go fuck yourself’ throughout the ‘verse. “I ain’t nobody’s pet.”

“I know,” Mal said, not because he believed it, but because this was fun, this was good, for Jayne to be able to take a joke, and he didn’t want to say something wrong, something that would make Jayne feel small, make him feel like he had to defend himself. He knew there weren’t really no excuse for the way he kept on lookin’ at Jayne, so he was relieved to be able to point out, “you got some food on your face.”

Jayne circled the tip of his tongue round his mouth, collecting a drop of juice from the corner of his lips. Mal cleared his throat at the sight, wished he could clear his body of the sudden urge to lean across the table and follow the trail of Jayne’s tongue with his own. If that weren’t the most yu ben de idea he’d ever had. Such a yu ben de idea that when the gorram girl started laughing, probably readin’ his gorram dirty mind, he laughed too, near as hysteric as she. Jayne snorted at the both of ‘em. Grabbing his knife, he wiped it off on his pants and shoved it back in its sheath. Pushing away from the table, he called out, “you’re both ruttin’ crazy,” as he stomped off.

Mal watched him go and when he turned back to River, she was giving him a very knowing smirk across the table, her arms wrapped around her body. “What?” No matter how long he’d had to get used to her, the girl remained downright disconcertin’. She climbed up on the table and stretched her body across it, supporting her weight on one slim arm and reaching out the other so that she could shake her finger in his face as though scolding him. He batted her hand away. “Stop it. What you grinnin’ about?”

“Naughty Mal,” she said, lowering her eyes and poutin’ all coy and seductive, like she was pretendin’ to be Inara.

Go se, if his hand had been someplace Jayne didn’t want it, the merc would have chopped it off. “What? No, River, come on,” he stuttered. How could anyone hope to keep a secret round a gorram reader? Yu ben de again, for thinkin’ she wouldn’t catch on.

River’s eyes were shining. “Mean Mal, teasing the puppy.”

He stood up, hands on his hips, and tried to put on his fiercest ‘I’m the gorram captain and you’ll do as I say’ voice and expression. “Stop that, now. Be good. I got things need lookin’ after and that don’t include you.”

River pursed her lips, covered her mouth with her hand, like maybe she was gonna let the whole subject drop, and Mal took his opportunity to escape. He ran off in the same direction Jayne had, and River smiled as she slowly bent her head down to her plate. The fruit Jayne had cut for her was gone, but there was a pool of juice that remained and she stuck her tongue out to lap it up. As she finished, Book walked in, and since she knew she shouldn’t say it to him, she couldn’t help herself. “Naughty touching,” she said, loudly, jumping out of her chair so quickly that it fell over. “They both want it.”

She startled him and he put his hand over his heart and exhaled audibly, trying to collect himself. “Are you feeling alright, sweetheart? Should I get your brother?”

She didn’t answer, just gave in to her giggles as she ran past him, her hair trailing out behind her and her skirt swirling round her ankles.

Shaking his head, Book set the chair back upright and sat down in it at the table. The seat was warm. He noticed the pit of the mango on the plate, and saying, “waste not, want not,” took it up in his hands and proceeded to strip every last bit of tangy flesh from it with his teeth.  



End file.
